


Detente

by Impressioniste



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impressioniste/pseuds/Impressioniste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Legacy, Garrett and Anders need to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detente

They had been avoiding the subject, and each other, for days.

It was not because they had nothing to talk about. On the contrary, there were so many things that they wanted to say to each other that it was almost too much to bear, their hearts so close to breaking that the thought of letting it all spill out at once filled them with such trepidation that it seemed better to simply say nothing at all.

They wandered the house aimlessly all day, never staying too long in the same room at the same time, always making up some excuse to be somewhere else, to be just far away enough from one another to distract themselves from all the questions nagging at the backs of their skulls, the things they wanted to desperately to ask but feared hearing the answers to.

They sat silently together at dinner every evening, Anders always excusing himself only three minutes or so into the meal, his food nearly untouched. Afterward, he took his refuge in the library, surrounding himself with other men’s thoughts, detailed so clealy and neatly on the worn, bound pages that he could lose himself in them, and did not have to think about his own.

They slept silently together every night, back to back—something they had never done before—unable to look one another in the eye, afraid that even touching might lead to talking, but still taking comfort in knowing they were both still there, because it was all they had left to cling to.

A week passed them by in no time, but they were both still physically recuperating from the toll the journey underground had taken on them, and it was easy enough to keep putting things off with the excuse that they should wait on everything else until after they had rested.

When the second week of silence had nearly reached its end, though, Hawke simply couldn’t stand it any longer. As much as he feared hearing the answers to all of his questions, nothing hurt more than the wedge of separation that fear and uncertainty had shoved between them, and he needed to bridge the gap.

He found Anders reading at the desk in the bedroom after dinner one night, and quietly entered the bedroom after making sure that the dog was still asleep by the fire in the den so there would be no interruptions. He gently shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed that he had been sharing with Anders for… years, now. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that so much time had passed, but Hawke had felt like all that time had been worth it, and that he and Anders had come to know almost everything important about one another—no, not **everything** there was to know, but all the things that really mattered, at least.

They had both been sorely mistaken on that front, though, in all fairness, Hawke had not known about all the things his father had been through, or the series of events that had led up to his birth. Anders, on the other hand…

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hawke’s voice was soft and non-accusatory, but in the complete silence of the bedroom, it seemed much louder and more upset than he had intended. Anders froze mid-sentence in his reading at the sound of Hawke’s voice, though it seemed like forever before he actually turned so that they could see each other’s faces.

With the last ounce of courage that Anders felt he possessed, he crossed the distance between them and sat beside Hawke, slowly letting his hand come to rest between them on the mattress. It was a gesture of compromise, no matter how small, and Hawke understood the intent behind it, letting his own hand come to rest on top of Anders’ slightly smaller one.

They still could not look at one another, but the touch was a start.

“I… never dreamed we’d be together long enough for it to be an issue,” Anders said quietly, his voice forced and flat and strained but there, the sound of it like music to Hawke’s ears after nearly two weeks of utter silence.

Hawke opened his mouth to respond, but before he could put words to the feelings twisting and snaking around inside his chest, Anders was already speaking again.

“You’d already accepted so much.” Anders turned away and looked straight down at the floor, but he didn’t pull his hand out from under Hawke’s. “Everything about Justice. About Karl. About what I’ve been trying to do here in Kirkwall, and that mages should be free at any cost.”

Anders’ free hand dug into the bedcover, and he swallowed hard. “But, your love… I just… never expected it to last.”

The words that had been on Hawke’s lips died and disappeared, then, as he reached out and cupped the side of Anders’ face with his hand, turning it toward him just enough to see the pained expression in his eyes. Anders unclenched his fingers from the bedcover and laid his own hand over Hawke’s, looking at him purposefully now, and plaintively.

And then, before they could even consciously work out the details about where or how to move, they were in each other’s arms, with Anders’ head pressed against Hawke’s broad chest and Hawke’s wide hands splayed out against Anders’ back and Hawke’s bearded chin brushing against the top of Anders’ forehead. Anders’ fingers left reddish, indented grip marks on Hawke’s forearms, and the strength of Hawke’s embrace nearly crushed all the air out of Anders’ lungs, but neither of them cared.

“I’ve always seen death as an… inevitability.” Anders said quietly, some time later, once Hawke’s arms loosnened enough for him to finally be able to breathe again. “And after… everything that happened in Amaranthine… I knew that one day the Circle or the Wardens would come for me, and that would be the end of it.” Anders’ lips trembled as he continued to speak, and he drew a deep breath to try and steady himself.

“But, then… you came along.” Anders laughed and pressed his hand to his mouth to stifle it. It was a weak, nervous laugh that carried the threat of frightened tears behind it, and the last thing that he wanted to do was cry.

“And when you said you wanted me beside you, ‘until the day we die’, how could I tell you that day was going to come so much sooner than you thought?”

“Anders…”

“And I was selfish.” Anders kept talking, blinking against the hot tears that stung his eyes, but had yet to fall. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing nothing but death, nothing but the taint, every time you turned to look at me.”

Hawke stroked Anders’ hair in silence for a few minutes, and Anders finally stopped talking, content to lay there against Hawke and finally give him the chance to respond.

“So, you’re going to end up… like Larius?”

Anders swallowed hard and bit his lip. “I don’t know, specifically. The Wardens keep so many things secret. We will eventually succumb to the taint, to the Calling, but—”

“How long, then. before you—”

Anders could not allow Hawke to finish his sentence. “I don’t know. It’s… different for everyone. But, if what happened in the Deep Roads is any indication… Less time than I thought.”

More than anything, Hawke wanted to be able to tell Anders that it didn’t matter, that everything would be all right, but he could not find the words. It would be a lie, and he knew it. And Anders would know it, too. If nothing else, at least, his arms were still wrapped tightly around Anders, and he was not about to let go anytime soon.

“Do you still want me here… with you?” Anders’ voice seemed almost entirely stripped of emotion, and the sound of it nearly broke Hawke’s heart. “If you’d rather not—”

“I still love you, Anders.” Hawke cut him off before he could finish whatever unpleasant suggestion he'd been trying to make.

“Hawke, I…” Anders didn’t know how to respond, so he simply fell silent, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall now, more than ever.

“For all we know, we could die tomorrow, and all this carrying on won’t have meant a thing.” Hawke replied, smoothing back Anders’ hair. “We’ll just have to make the best of what we have, and worry about the rest when the time comes.”

Anders could only nod against Hawke’s chest, pressing his face harder against the silky, smooth fabric of the finery he wore, breathing in Hawke’s heat and his scent and trying to find some comfort in it.

And then the tears finally came, but Anders did not feel them welling up and blurring his vision; He felt them landing softly on the top of his head, soaking his hair and sliding down along the curve of his ear instead of trickling down his cheeks, and it took him a moment to realize that the eyes those tears were really falling from were Hawke’s, and not his own.


End file.
